Little Infinities
by BrokenDreamz95
Summary: <html><head></head>full summary inside The Fault in Our Stars Makorra AU</html>


**Title:** Little Infinities  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> 2,433  
><strong>Summary:<strong> [A once up-and-coming high school boxer who lost his parents to cancer, and now has a younger brother ready to completely lose his sight - Mako, an eighteen-year-old amputee in remission from his own form of cancer, takes a trip to a support group alongside his brother, as his last wish before undergoing his blinding surgery. There, he meets a young woman with stage four thyroid cancer - now spreading into her lungs - named Korra. As complete opposites, Mako isn't exactly too fond of Korra's presence at the meetings, but as she begins to grow on him, he finds himself falling deeply in love than ever before. | An alternate universe fic, based on the best-selling novel The Fault in Our Stars, by John Green | Makorra]

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"Here, I brought you a cookie."

He looked up to meet the wide grin of his younger brother, his face just inches away from his own, and between them, a kale cookie held in the younger brother's hand. He brushed the younger brother's hand away and turned his head, knitting his brows together as he glared at the wall to his right. There, stood the small table others had gathered around directly upon entering the building; a plate of cookies, a stack of napkins, several plastic cups, and two jugs – one filled with lemonade, the other with water – sat upon the red, plastic cloth one could buy at their local party store. The older brother sighed.

"I'll pass."

"Aw, come on, Mako!" the green-eyed brother whined, taking a bite out of the rejected cookie. He sat in the small, plastic, green chair one would often find in classrooms beside his brother. "I know you didn't want to come here in the first place, but lighten up! We're in the Literal Heart of Jesus!"

_The Literal Heart of Jesus _was actually the basement of the Republic City church, located just a few blocks deep into downtown. It wasn't used too often, if the presence of cobwebs and dust were any indication, but once every week, the church held a support group for children and teenagers diagnosed with cancer. It was something the amber-eyed brother found quiet depressing – gathering together in a circle to sing hymns he couldn't remember the words to, and say prayers to a god he wasn't even certain existed, all with the purpose of lifting the spirits of the dying individuals who were more than likely coerced into attending by their family members.

Bolin – Mako's free-spirited, carefree younger brother – wasn't one of those individuals, however. No, Bolin was much different from those who would be sentenced to their deathbed soon enough; the younger brother had been diagnosed with retinoblastoma – or, simply put, eye cancer – at the age of ten, just four years after the passing of both of their parents. At the age of eleven, the younger brother had his right eye surgically removed in hopes of ridding the young boy of his deadly disease, and in its place now sat a glass eye, completely functional in terms of moving just as though it were real. Now, at the age of sixteen – after his and his brother's worst nightmare had become a reality – the green-eyed young man was to have his remaining eye surgically removed and replaced with that of glass, ridding him of his sight entirely, rendering him completely blind. In midst of this, however, the younger sibling had managed to keep a smile on his face and his happiness in tact – something Mako was completely and utterly amazed by.

Mako was also a victim of cancer – something that ran rampant in both sides of his family, and what ultimately took the lives of his parents. At sixteen – much later than that of his brother's age of diagnosis – after complaints of pain and swelling in his left knee shortly after a boxing match, the boys' grandmother, Yin, had rushed him to the doctor's office, figuring the symptoms were that of a knee injury acquired from his recent boxing match. Upon unsuccessful treatments through knee braces and anti-inflammatory drugs, the doctor suggested running tests, given the history of cancer in the family, and ultimately found the growth of a malignant tumor, growing directly within his tibia. In order to prevent further spread of the cancer, the doctor suggested amputating the young man's leg, just below the knee. He decided to have the procedure done, effectively ending his high school boxing career.

And now, here he sat, cancer free in the Literal Heart of Jesus – per request of his younger brother before he went under the knife and was robbed fully of his sight – lifting his left leg up and down at the thigh, tapping the makeshift foot of his prosthetic leg that sat within the confines of a sneaker, just like an any foot would, against the floor of the basement.

"When does this thing start, exactly?"

Bolin swallowed the bit of cookie he had chomped off and chewed, and pursed his lips in thought. "Usually around three-fifteen, but Ping likes to wait until at least all of the chairs are filled."

Mako threw his head back and groaned rather audibly. "We're going to be here forever, Bo! Who – in their right-mind – would show up to this thing?"

"Hey!" Bolin's green-eyed gaze pierced his older brother's form. Cookie crumbs spluttered from the young man's mouth, littering his brother's shirt. "I happen to find these meetings quite inspirational, thank-you."

"Right," the elder brother muttered, fixing his posture and sitting upright in his chair. He took one final glance across the room – noting that, now, everyone seemed to be taking their seats. He supposed the lean, rather giddy middle-aged man taking a seat in the very middle of the circle was Ping.

"Welcome, everyone!" the mustached man smiled widely, clasping his hands together with an audible _clap!_ that managed to carry its way throughout the church basement. "I see we have some new faces in the crowd, so I'll begin with a bit of an explanation – we're all here because of one common factor; cancer. As a support group, we'll be sharing our stories, our fears, so on and so forth. Now, since there are new faces, I'll go ahead and begin with my story!"

And begin he did.

For a considerably prolonged amount of time, Ping babbled on about his own battle – and eventual triumph – against cancer; testicular cancer, to be specific. Mako wasn't sure of the specifics – having spaced out shortly after the older man announced that he now walked the streets with one ball hanging between his legs – nor did he honestly care. He was here for his younger brother, and his younger brother alone.

After Ping's came the stories of others sitting amongst the group – someone with leukemia here, another with Hodgkin's lymphoma there… Exactly what one would expect from a support group for those diagnosed with cancer.

The only one he'd devoted the entirety of his attention to was his younger brother, who – at the request of Ping – stood from his chair rather eagerly to tell his own tale. It started off with the basics – Bolin stated his name, his age, his diagnosis just a little over six years ago, and his fate in the coming weeks. Looking around the room, one could spot the looks of sympathy from the others that sat stationary in their chairs, feeling sorry for someone other than themselves for a sliver of time. As the green-eyed young man continued, he stated his fears, something Mako had heard every now and again when Bolin would have his rare breakdowns; he never feared not being able to see the beauty in the world again, no, he instead feared never being able to see his bother's face again – the only rock in his life. However, even as the younger brother stated this to the small group, he kept a smile on his face – something Mako admired most about his overzealous younger brother.

The sympathetic mantra repeated after each story carried across the room in low murmurs as Bolin took his seat beside his older brother, and as far as Mako was concerned, they fell upon deaf ears. The whole we're here for you shebang was anything but truth; this was just something, in Mako's opinion, that had been orchestrated by Ping in attempt of placing false hope within the hearts of the terminally-ill.

"How about you, Mako?" Ping's voice chimed through the basement as soon as the murmurs ceased. "What's your story?"

Mako's gaze flew towards Ping at the mention of his name. "I'm just here at my brother's request. I didn't exactly plan to—

"Don't be shy, now; I'm sure Bolin would love for his big brother to participate!"

A glance in Bolin's direction, and the green-eyed young man offered a small smile of agreement.

Mako sighed.

He arose from his chair, clasping his hands together as he did so. The sooner he spoke, the sooner this would be over with. "Alright, well, I'm Mako. I was diagnosed with osteosarcoma at sixteen, had my leg amputated and replaced with this—" he tugged upward on the leg of his jeans, revealing the metal limb that now replaced his leg. "—nifty little thing. I'm now eighteen, living cancer-free with my grandmother and little brother, playing video games, eating unhealthy snack foods, and practicing a terrible sleeping habit."

He gave the group a quick once-over before lowering himself down upon the chair.

"Wait, wait, wait – don't sit just yet!" Ping called out, halting Mako's movements. "You haven't shared your fears with the group!"

"My fears?"

Ping nodded.

Mako, nonetheless, lowered his bottom down against the plastic of the chair and eyed the mustached group leader. His brow furrowed and his lips pursed as though to be in deep thought. "I don't have any," he stated matter-of-factly. "My only fear of my little brother going completely blind came true upon his diagnosis a few months back. I have no fears left to offer."

The room fell silent, give-or-take a few grunts as some cleared their throats as to fill the awkwardness that had bestowed upon the group. Ping had taken the right end of his mustache between his thumb and forefinger, and begun to twirl it. Mako assumed it was some sort of quirk the older man had developed sometime in his life as to deal with building anxiety – cancer would do that to you.

"Right. Well…" Ping was failing with his words, and honestly, Mako couldn't blame him. He supposed he had been a tad bit morbid when given the floor to share his own version of life, yet he held no regret for his actions. They wanted the truth, and he was there to deliver. "Thank-you for sharing, Mako. Let's move on to you, little lady."

Ping's own amber-eyed gaze had fallen upon a young woman that had otherwise gone unnoticed by the elder brother. With a scowl upon her face, and her arms folded across her chest, she screamed _I-really-don't-want-to-be-here_ more so than he himself did. "What's your story?"

The young woman slowly stood from her blue, plastic classroom chair, and it was only then that Mako noticed the slim, plastic tubing that hung out of her nostrils, wrapping around her ears and behind her head, where it traveled down her body and connected to an oxygen tank placed upon the floor. Her brown hair was choppy, coming up short just a bit below her jaw, and her bright, blue eyes popped, complimented perfectly by her tanned skin. The scowl she wore hadn't once left her face, even as she stared directly at Ping, who seemed to cower under her gaze.

Mako wondered why he hadn't noticed her, before.

"My name's Korra," the young woman spoke in such a confident manner – more so than even Bolin himself – with a hint of a sly smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Seventeen; thyroid cancer – that is now at stage four – diagnosed when I was eleven, now with metastasis straight down into my lungs. I'm still kicking thanks to a drug called Phalanxifor. Yeah, I know – it's a short-term medication with a very, very low success rate, yet here we are."

"And how are you feeling?" inquired Ping.

"Like everyone else in this basement – I'm sorry, we're in the Heart of Jesus, aren't we? _The Literal Heart of Jesus_, might I add," her smirk broke free as those words spilled from her lips. "Like everyone else in The Literal Heart of Jesus today, I'm dealing with it. I guess you can say I'm swell; I'm just _grand_, Ping."

Like everyone else, she was _dealing_ with her condition.

_Dealing,_ Mako gritted his teeth, _isn't losing a leg or losing your eyesight – that's called _living_ with it. _

"I'm glad to hear your spirits are so… up!" Ping somehow managed a smile, although somewhat nervously. "Any fears you would like to share with the group?"

Her humming filled the silence of the room as she pursed her lips, acting as though deep in thought. "Oblivion, I suppose."

"Oblivion?"

"You see, Ping," Korra held her chin in one hand, while the other rested upon her hip, "I want to be remembered in this world – I want to leave a mark. I don't want to die knowing I didn't accomplish that; that all my death meant was that I was another soul entering the void. I want people to remember me as Korra, the girl who accomplished something great, not Korra, the girl who had cancer."

Mako felt his face contort into several degrees of angered expressions at the girl's words. First, she insults those already sentenced to death-row by their own bodies failing themselves, and now, she dares to state that she – of all things in this cruel world – is afraid of oblivion, while the rest of the group fears death knocking upon their door each and every waking moment? Had she gone mad, or had she simply arrived at the wrong support group?

He didn't bother listen to another word said amongst the small group as he arose from his chair. His eyes didn't meet those of anyone else, not even his own brother, as he hobbled toward the stairs leading up and out of the basement, putting much more force into his prosthetic's steps than necessary.

He had managed his way out of The Literal Heart of Jesus, and eventually, the church it resided within, and found himself storming towards his car at the front of the parking lot. His hand dug into his jean pocket, met with the jingle of his keys, and his thumb pressed against a button whose placement he had memorized. The clicking of the locks of his car doors met his ears like his favorite song, and the amber-eyed teenager didn't hesitate to swing the driver-side door open.

He plopped down in the driver's seat and slammed the door shut, fighting with the key to his car as he attempted to stick it into the ignition immediately afterward. The engine eventually roared to life upon his success, and in his anger, Mako slammed his fists down against the plastic leather steering wheel.

Where Korra feared being another lost soul, entering the void upon death, he, himself, had entered that void long ago – the day he learned of his brother's upcoming fate.


End file.
